think about was the war and the vast empire that would be his to rule afterward. He sat up, lighting a candle. The floor beneath his feet murmured for a moment. The gold utensils on his plate tinkled.
He stared at his table. Everything on it was trembling.
Either this is a tremor, or Aterun is up to something.
Ittonifer put his red cape on and picked up his torch, walking briskly down the hall and to the bolted door that led to the warlock’s lair.
He rushed down the stairs and over to the dark cavern where the old magician was sure to be.
As Ittonifer entered the cave, the reflection of his torch’s flame danced off of Jalarn’s armor. Aterun was standing in front of the pool staring at Ittonifer.
“My lord,” they both said.
“And what are you two up to?” asked Ittonifer.
“You will be most pleased,” said Jalarn.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Aterun rubbed his hands together.
“We had first planned to cast a spell on all of the traitors of Malinor, but the process takes much too long. We felt that our energy was put to best use by focusing on one man first. The man that we hate the most.”
Ittonifer nodded. He liked the sound of what he was hearing.
“We have cast a spell on Sanctus’ general,” said Aterun.
“Edandir. He is the worst traitor of them all. Will it kill him?” asked Ittonifer.
“No, not immediately, but we are working on a modification. Aterun has been experimenting with deviations of more minor spells and some of them have worked,” said Jalarn.
Aterun smirked.
“Tell me more,” said Ittonifer.
*****
Jalarn returned to his room much later that night. He and Aterun had finished the enchantment over Edandir, but the modification that would make it fatal would take Aterun another day or more several more hours.
His comfortable bed looked so inviting, but Talya’s scroll needed to be burned. Jalarn reached over to pick it up, and his elbow hit a container of ink. The small bottle tipped over. He cursed and set it straight, but as he did so, his hand hit the scroll and it rolled off the desk.
Jalarn bent to retrieve it. It had unraveled. It was several feet long, and it had the most elegant handwriting that he had ever seen. Someone had taken great care to pen the words of their God.
Beautiful, but rubbish.
As he began to roll it back up, the black ink of one sentence turned the color of crimson. Jalarn rubbed his eyes, certain that he had strained them too much. The writing was still blood red.
He read the scarlet-hued words.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son…
Jalarn nearly jumped back at the words.
Son?
“Burn it, Jalarn!”
Jalarn fought the voice inside his head, reading the rest.
… that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
Jalarn wondered if Talya would explain the meaning of that to him exactly. What did this everlasting life entail?
At any moment, Ittonifer would request to speak with him about the spell over Edandir. Jalarn did have an army to lead, but something deep within him was screaming to know the meaning of those words before he could do that.
Jalarn felt a looming presence surrounding him. It was his lord. The devil. He was not pleased. Still, Jalarn’s desire to have his question answered outweighed his fear of the devil’s wrath. That sentence was like nothing he had ever read before. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to find out what fueled the God followers to be so defiant of the empire?
“I’m only trying to find out why she believes what she does,” Jalarn said. “Then I will set her straight.”
*****
Ittonifer admired the vast legions of soldiers from the comfort of his balcony once again. Jalarn and the commanders were training them well. The time was almost upon him to rightfully take his last enemy and assume full control of the continent.
He sensed that Aterun was coming up behind him and turned around.
The warlock had become annoyingly bold at approaching him unannounced, but he knew why. The old stump believed that he had more power than anyone in the empire. Aterun’s only purpose was to do the dirty work for Ittonifer. He would find that out one day soon.
“What do you want, Aterun?”
“I have come to inform you that your nephew has been neglecting his studies and has resorted to moping around the castle for the last two days.”
Ittonifer frowned.
Jalarn had not moped around anywhere since he had been a scraggly boy in need